only lovers left alive
by Ivory Muse
Summary: Maiko Week 2017 drabbles. DAY THREE— SWEET; she's not going to be the only one, but being his first must count for something.
1. spring

notes: i haaaaate lok and the comics, so please god, no one expect consistency

* * *

Their daughter is born in the rabbit month, on a hot, balmy day, as quiet and thin as her mother. The room reeks of blood and sweat that incense can't quite cover up.

"Are you disappointed?" Mai asks flatly once he comes in, paler than he's ever seen her, hair plastered to her shiny forehead.

"What? No, why would I be?" he sputters, reaching over to stroke a tiny cheek. She looks so fragile, wrapped in a turtleduck-patterned blanket; both of them do. "She's healthy— she's _perfect_."

"She's a girl." Mai plays with the sheets, twisting them around her finger, and refuses to meet his eyes. "Your firstborn. Most men wouldn't exactly be thrilled about her taking the throne."

He thinks about his sister Azula, trampling everything in the way of path to greatness, how far she fell before she could reach it. He thinks about his mother, long dead and gone, how being a perfectly obedient wife did not save her. He thinks about Mai herself, stifled and shut up and sold to his house for a profit, how her parents almost forgot her name after her brother came along.

Spring. New awakening, new beginnings.

"Fire Lord Izumi," he says, liking the feel of the words in his mouth. "She'll make history."

He kisses Mai's forehead as she starts to cry.


	2. mask

"I told you," she drawls, "I don't care. And if you had any brains, you wouldn't care either."

"Right." Count to ten, get control of your temper, Mother lectures him, but he's always been terrible at heeding her. "The only thing you've ever cared about is yourself. You don't have to tell me twice."

"You're going to be killed, you idiot." She grasps him by the shoulders, shaking a tiny bit. "Do you want a matching scar? Because that's what'll happen if you press this with your father."

"Our soldiers are suffering," he says, desperate to make her understand something as natural as breathing to him. "I'm at the barracks every day, and their wages aren't even high enough to pay for—"

"I'm not like you, Zuko," she cuts off slowly. "I'm not that naive. I know things don't change just because you want them to."

"You're a liar," he snaps, unremorseful. "It does bother you. You're just too much of a coward to show it. Disagree with anyone. Risk getting hurt."

"And you never think about who gets hurt when you decide to destroy yourself. Trust me, if I were really a coward, I would've given up on you a long time ago."

The look on her face, as she slams the door, hurts more than the scorch marks he got in the barracks.


	3. sweet

" _This isn't funny._ "

"You're right," she snorts. "It's hilarious."

He crosses his arms and flings himself onto the couch, like her baby brother in a tantrum. "Why would I want a harem? Did I ever ask for a harem? Is this one of Azula's sick jokes?"

"No, no, you're leaving out the best part," she can't resist saying. "It's not even your own harem. It's your dad's harem, that he's very generously allowing you to use. Because you're a man now."

The glare he shoots her could freeze lava. "That's exactly how I feel like losing my virginity, right there. To a woman who's _paid_ to fuck me."

"Come on," she says, raising an eyebrow, "you expect me to believe you're still— oh, wow. You are." She didn't know it was possible for both of his ears to turn the exact same shade of red. "Seriously? Being a prince didn't get any girl into bed? The sailors never took you to a brothel?"

"They tried," he mutters, "but I said no, okay? I'm not so ugly I have to hire someone. Besides, I was going to wait."

"You were going to wait," she says quietly, a blush beginning to rise in her cheeks as realization dawns. "For... me?"

"Yeah." She can see his throat bulge as he swallows, avoiding her gaze. That dork. "For you. So it'd be... special. But now— I can't offend Father—"

"Then let's do it."

Before he can move away, she straddles him, tugging at the fastenings on her tunic. "I won't be the only one," she says, impulsive, her heart pounding in her mouth. "But at least I'll be the first. It'll matter."

"I love you," he says, like he's talking to the sun, and kisses her so hard she can't breathe. "I love you. I love you."

She doesn't say it back. She doesn't think she believes in love. But she feels _something_ for him, fondness and admiration and hope all mixed up, and that's enough for her to pull her sarashi off.


End file.
